


Long Live Life

by ujihun



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Enemies to Friends, Gambling, How Do I Tag, M/M, but not too spicy i swear, i don't know i'm sorry just roll with it lol, lowkey angst, word vomit, yeah idk based off an unnaturally spicy dream that my brain conjured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27228991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ujihun/pseuds/ujihun
Summary: Geonhak's mission for today? Seduce the flirtatious owner of Twilight Bar, an anonymous man with a strange alias, who regularly resides in one of the VIP rooms. Then he's to steal the identifications of the man in order to effectively arrest him, as well collect evidence to shut down the bar for illegal gambling.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Kim Youngjo | Ravn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	Long Live Life

**Author's Note:**

> nothing like accidentally hurling up like 10k words in which i wrote most of it in a day and just kept adding stuff after bc i don't know how to Stop!
> 
> this is the only relatively "spicy" thing i'll write like please i _swear_ on everything that i favor wholesome, domestic stuff more than anything in the world- i just had this dream that this fic is based off of that i just had to write lol (and honestly i've surprised myself, i didn't know i had it in me)
> 
>  **warning** for **alcohol, illegal gambling (if that should be warned idk lol), the tiniest bit of violence but it's just like one dude getting kicked, *kissing...? (which i will never write again btw i can't do it i'm kind of uncomfortable), and also **somewhat nonconsensual touching (as geonhak is undercover and just has to roll with flirty youngjo to accomplish his mission), so please read cautiously if these things bother you!  
> (which ironically, some of these things bother me too, just not to a serious extent)
> 
> unbeta'd, all errors are mine!

━━━━━━━━»•» ◐ «•«━━

Geonhak fidgets with the buttons of his black dress shirt before he tucks it into pants that are equally as dark, an attempt to accentuate the gold-accented belt strapped around his waist that he's had to borrow from Harin. He runs his fingers through his short bangs, pushing half of it back so that it's out of his forehead. His locks are just as black as his outfit, and they're paired with his sharp dark eyebrows and dark eyes.

All black, ominous, mysterious, sexy and untelling.

A man with a mission.

(Quite literally.)

He gives himself one last look in the pub bathroom's mirror and flashes himself a satisfied smirk.

His mission for today? Seduce the flirtatious owner of Twilight Bar, an anonymous man with a strange alias, who regularly resides in one of the VIP rooms. Then he's to steal the identifications of the man in order to effectively arrest him, as well collect evidence to shut down the bar for illegal gambling.

Before he exits the bathroom - thankfully empty, he had checked it three times over to make sure - he hears the voice of his boss speak into the earpiece that he has yet to remove.

  
  
  


"You know where to go, right?" Seoho is asking, a hint of mockery upon his tone.

  
  
  


Geonhak recalls the time - the only time, thankfully - when he had shadowed Seoho on a mission, in which both of them had gone the wrong direction, ultimately getting them lost and dragging the mission out two hours longer than it should have been.

In Geonhak's mind, it was Seoho's fault, as he was the one leading the entire time. But in Seoho's mind, it was Geonhak for supposedly providing the incorrect coordinates when Geonhak was so sure he had checked over that he had gotten the location right.

  
  
  


"That one time was your fault, _hyung_. I actually have a sense of direction unlike you," Geonhak retorts.

  
  
  


"You—" Seoho starts to say, but then Geonhak hears the flattening of crumpled papers and then an exaggerated sigh.

  
  
  


It's silent for a short moment, and Geonhak imagines Seoho is probably doing the thing where he tangles his fingers into his red-streaked hair to the point it just offsets his entire hairstyle. He snickers - though carefully, hoping his _hyung_ won't hear - at the thought of Seoho's hair sticking up ridiculously in directions from where he's clutched it.

  
  
  


"Whatever, nevermind," Seoho mumbles after a while, then clears his throat. "So our target - you know of him, we went through this already - is being investigated for illegal gambling and such. Oh, also he's apparently a gross lusty dude, and I know you're not comfortable with that, so uh, I apologize in advance. Anyway, when you find him, you'll see that he's always surrounded by hostile bodyguards. I swear they could bite your head off without you even doing anything. And for when you get away, most of the exits are too far away, so the closest should be the door just outside the VIP room that leads to the East wing staircase. There's a chance there will be more bodyguards there though, and you're alone this time, so just be careful, Hak, okay?"

  
  
  


Geonhak nods even though Seoho cannot see it, then hums to affirm he understands.

  
  
  


"I'll be fine, I can handle it. I'll call you when I'm out. Bye."

  
  
  


Geonhak pops off the earpiece and shoves it carelessly into his pocket, glances at himself in the mirror - he really should thank Dongju later for doing his makeup, he thinks - and then pushes himself out the bathroom door into the open world of the bar.

  
  
  


—

  
  
  


Dark brown hair and straight bangs that are so flat they must be the result of a perm.

Round but piercing cat-like eyes.

Heart-shaped lips that have recklessly kissed an unimaginable number of people.

A wardrobe that consists of mostly black.

(Ominous, mysterious, sexy and untelling.)

And among the small hoops of silver is a rose earring, colored purple, cheap-looking but somehow made to look elegant.

Or at least, that's what Geonhak is capable of making out from the image of the target that he had been provided and from the details given by undercover informants prior to entering Twilight Bar. The image was barely clear, pixelated and slightly blurred, and truthfully, Geonhak cannot tell the man's age at all, but regardless of that he could already feel the air of superiority and narcissism radiating off just that photo he had been given.

The man flirts with all sorts of people. Women, men, and people who don't even belong to a label. Just about anyone. It didn't matter to his target. There would be people all over him the majority of his time, and then he'd toss them away when he was finished.

So finding this man should not be that difficult, Geonhak thinks.

  
  
  


—

  
  
  


Entering the VIP room under the guise of a server, some bottle of expensive champagne cradled carefully in one arm, Geonhak carefully shuts the door behind him.

His target, the owner, nameless and obscure other than the infamous alias of Ravn, sits in front of him, legs crossed magnificently like he's of royalty. Ravn isn't paying any attention to him, too busy waving off some person whose face is tear-stained and disheveled.

Geonhak swallows thickly, because one, he can feel his adrenaline spiking just from being in the same room as his target.

Second, he knows the person being shooed away is just one of Ravn's victims, being flirted with and seduced then thrown away when Ravn gets bored of them.

And third, Geonhak was not expecting Ravn to be this...

_Dashing_.

Now Geonhak knows that Ravn is young, probably around Geonhak's age or even a bit older. The sharp gaze Geonhak was told - was _warned_ \- about is literally no joke, showing no remorse as the poor mess of his previous toy scampers off, shoving past Geonhak and out the door.

Their eyes meet and Geonhak, even with his heart beating obnoxiously in his ears, keeps stoic and just respectfully bows his head as a greeting. He calmly approaches the man, slow footsteps muffled by the carpet accompanied by distant rave music in the background being the only sounds in the room. He ignores the numerous men scattered around the room eyeing him like a hawk, whether they're bodyguards or Ravn's gambling acquaintances, and sets the champagne down as lightly as he can onto the table before subtly glancing up to meet Ravn's eyes.

(This champagne is so expensive it probably costs twice as much as Geonhak's life. To shatter it, with all these menacing bodyguards and Ravn himself staring him down, would be a death wish, so he best be as careful as he can to not break the pricy bottle of alcohol.)

Pretending like he doesn't notice - or that he doesn't care - about the very evident game of poker, and the very evident pile of illegal winnings on Ravn's side, Geonhak goes to pour Ravn a glass. But then the bar owner stops him suddenly, before Geonhak can even get the bottle open. Ravn lifts his hand, but Geonhak finds it's more of an invitation than a warning, palm outstretched as if for him to take.

Geonhak doesn't say anything, still holding eye contact with the bar owner who's looking him up and down like he's a piece of meat. Not-so-subtly, Geonhak fumbles with his shirt, pretending to adjust his collar but only to undo a few buttons at the top. He notes the way Ravn's eyes drop to his neck and then to his chest, and though it makes Geonhak feel uncomfortable, he takes it as a win.

  
  
  


"Sweetie," Ravn says, voice slurred from the alcohol he had been drinking before Geonhak had entered. "What's a treat like you doing here?"

  
  
  


"Just doing my job, sir," Geonhak responds sweetly, but makes sure to utilize the alluring deepness of his voice.

  
  
  


It works, because Ravn seems surprised to hear such a deep voice come from Geonhak, and Geonhak merely smiles with a slight quirk of his lips.

  
  
  


"A server isn't a fitting career for someone as gorgeous as you," Ravn continues, pulling himself up so that he's leaning forward to get a closer look at Geonhak. "What's your name, darling?"

  
  
  


"Kim Leedo, sir."

  
  
  


Geonhak motions to the fake nametag pinned to his shirt, an absolutely identical copy of the Twilight Bar employee nametags that Dongmyeong had crafted, and Ravn nods slowly, eyes dropping briefly to the nametag before looking back into Geonhak's eyes in an almost cannibalistic manner.

  
  
  


"Mm. Leedo, like the king. How fitting," he purrs, threading his fingers through his brown hair.

  
  
  


Without another word, Ravn leans back into the soft maroon velvet of his couch, seems to relish in the touch, and then he's patting his thigh invitingly with this sneer on his face that makes Geonhak a little queasy.

Geonhak decides he can't keep the feigned innocence of an abiding server anymore and switches over to the guise of someone who _seeks_ Ravn's touch.

It's something foreign to him, to be flirty and seductive, but somehow it comes naturally anyway as Geonhak allows himself to smirk back, still fiddling with his shirt.

  
  
  


"Now why would someone like you want a mere server like me?" He asks, though his voice has dropped even lower, hoping to draw out any more attraction from Ravn.

  
  
  


"Oh Leedo- _ssi_ , honey - a face, a voice, and a body like yours should be worth more than just a 'mere server'," Ravn coos, propping his chin onto his palm and drumming his fingers on his cheek.

  
  
  


He's still staring Geonhak down, milking every detail of the undercover agent, from Geonhak's face, throat, waist, and legs.

  
  
  


"Really now?" Geonhak hums, breaking eye contact briefly to pop the champagne bottle open. "And what about your previous suitors? All one hundred or so of them?"

  
  
  


As he pours the champagne into a nearby unused glass, watching as the glass fills with the golden liquid, both literally and figuratively, and notes how Ravn frowns in the corner of his eye.

  
  
  


"Believe me, out of all of them, I haven't fancied any of them the way I fancy you."

  
  
  


Geonhak gives him a skeptical look before standing from where he's been crouched and offering the glass of champagne forward.

Hesitantly, Ravn's hands reach out to take it and their fingers brush together. It sends some chill down Geonhak's back but it apparently does the same to Ravn, who looks briefly starstruck just from the contact.

(Geonhak doesn't know how to take it. While this man is a flirt, and maybe even a hopeless romantic, Geonhak, as far as he's concerned, has never had anyone attracted to him like this before.)

As Ravn hurries to compose himself once more, his eyes noticeably darken animalistically and he's patting his thigh again, holding his gaze with Geonhak even as he takes a swig of the champagne, downing half of the glass in one go.

It's awkward, and again foreign to Geonhak, but he allows himself to move forward, so sluggishly that Ravn seems to get impatient waiting. He delays briefly, towering over where Ravn sits. And then he drops down onto Ravn's thigh with a satisfied huff, his legs draping over the other man's lap, leaning teasingly into the bar owner's shoulder.

Ravn seems satisfied as well, but also so startled that Geonhak feels the man tense up.

  
  
  


"Went through several people today but none have met my standards like you have, Leedo- _ssi_ ," Ravn whispers into Geonhak's ear.

  
  
  


It makes Geonhak shiver, but not too noticeably, and he can't help but bitterly think that Seoho would be laughing at him if he was watching.

Turning his head away almost defiantly, even while he's literally sitting in the lap of this man, Geonhak grunts coldly in response.

  
  
  


"I'm sure you say that with every person you've hooked up with."

  
  
  


Ravn sets the glass of champagne down carelessly onto the couch, and Geonhak eyes it from the corner of his eye and watches how it tilts.

(It makes him stressed over the fact such a pricy drink could just be easily and mindlessly wasted by Ravn, but Geonhak's focus shouldn't be on the champagne.)

Cold fingers, though surprisingly soft, caress Geonhak's chin and their eyes meet once more, their faces significantly closer this time.

Geonhak almost forgets to blink as he mentally writes down every little detail of the man. He looks at the eyebrows as dark and defined as his own, and then to the proud nose that suits Ravn's face perfectly. Ravn's eyes are a deep brown - of course, just about every Korean person's eyes are brown - but there's something so alluring about how dark the man's eyes are, like a black hole that could suck Geonhak in any moment. Then the man's lips, pink from either kissing too much or from lipstick stains, are shaped just so… kissable. It makes Geonhak irritated, and he lowers his gaze to Ravn's neck instead. There's a mole, a _beauty mark_ , sitting perfectly against his throat, and Geonhak finds himself unconsciously gulping.

Truthfully, though Geonhak hates to admit it, he feels like Ravn is succeeding in winning him over with how perfect he is, when it should be Geonhak winning him over. And so he pulls his face away from the gambler's touch, feigning a slightly disgusted look.

  
  
  


"Don't be like that," Ravn says breathily. "I mean every word that I've told you, really."

  
  
  


Geonhak gives Ravn a glance, a sort of reluctance falling over his face instead, and Ravn takes it as an offering to pull Geonhak even closer to his chest.

The glass of champagne shifts from the movement and spills in the direction opposite from where the two men sit, and Geonhak gets distracted as he watches the alcohol soak into the couch in a way that he bets will leave a permanent stain if not cleaned right away.

Ravn takes this opportunity, however, to grab Geonhak's face while he's distracted, and before Geonhak can even react, a pair of lips are suddenly pressed against his. Geonhak mentally curses; the only person he's ever kissed in his life was his mother when she sent him off to school, and now this notorious fuckboy was sucking on his face.

But if he pulls away, he's worried he'll blow his cover and he allows Ravn to keep kissing him. A hand rests in the back of his head and Geonhak finds he's rather surprised how gentle Ravn is, even opposed to the contrasting roughness of the kiss.

Also, while he doesn't want to even think about it, he has to admit Ravn is one hell of a good kisser, even though Geonhak has never kissed anyone on the lips before. His heart is racing, and he isn't so sure if it's because he's somewhat attracted to this man or because, childishly, he's distraught over having this sort of situation be his first ever kiss.

Somehow he gets distracted in the moment, unintentionally relishing in how Ravn's hands brush against the back of his neck so lightly that it tickles in a way that spikes his adrenaline. He gets a taste of that expensive champagne he knows he'll never be able to buy for himself, and supposes he might as well take it as a treat that he'll never experience again.

When Ravn finally pulls back, Geonhak forgets to breathe even though he hasn't been able to breathe for the past while because of the kiss, and he stares dumbly at the bar owner, forgetting about the task at hand.

  
  
  


"You've never kissed anyone before, have you, Leedo- _ssi?_ " Ravn smiles, his face still much too close that the smell of champagne on his breath brushes over Geonhak's nose.

  
  
  


Geonhak manages to pull himself out of his trance and he leans back, smiling as coyly as he can and putting a hand to his lips as if flattered.

  
  
  


"Why, was kissing me that bad?" He asks innocently, though he finds himself genuinely curious on hearing the answer.

  
  
  


"No, not at all," Ravn says as sincerely as he can. "I'd've expected you to have experience when you're as alluring as you are, so while I'm surprised, I find you _very_ cute."

  
  
  


_Cute?_

  
  
  


Geonhak feels his voice catch in his throat, actually taken aback by the comment.

No one really calls him cute.

(Except for the Son twins, but they're different. They're like mischievous little brothers to him.)

  
  


Geonhak is never cute. He's always been called the 'manly' one, the scary one, maybe even the handsome one if he's lucky.

But never cute.

Except apparently in the eyes of Ravn.

  
  
  


"Are you only good at throwing around empty compliments?" Geonhak asks, pretending to be smug rather than flustered.

  
  
  


"I've just kissed you and you still think I'm being insincere? Ouch," Ravn pouts.

  
  
  


Something churns in Geonhak's stomach; there's something genuinely... _adorable_ about the way Ravn pushes his lower lip out, like a child who can always get his way with just that look.

And in this case, Geonhak decides he has to give Ravn his way. He chuckles teasingly and, quite boldly, tucks his nose into the crook of Ravn's neck. The bar owner is actually somewhat cold but in a way that's comforting, and it contrasts with Geonhak's heater of a body.

Surprisingly, opposed to what Geonhak was thinking, Ravn doesn't reek of the stench of alcohol and sweat. Instead, there's the faintest smells of a rich cologne that Geonhak bets probably also costs a fortune, and then a pleasant, cozy smell that Geonhak can't properly describe that must just be distinctly Ravn.

Ravn makes some pleased sound in the back of his throat, something alike to a cat's purr, and he tightens his embrace around Geonhak. Then he apparently drinks something, the gulping sound amplified in Geonhak's ear, and he can only assume it's the remaining contents of the champagne that hadn't spilled out.

Geonhak makes a show of placing his right hand onto Ravn's chest. (He doesn't feel comfortable doing so, because it doesn't feel _right,_ but there are things that he has to do in order to get his job done.) Ravn does something similar, slightly disoriented fingers slowly coming to clutch at Geonhak's collar.

  
  
  


"You're like a furnace," Ravn coos. "Like a nice, cozy fireplace in the middle of winter."

  
  
  


"Well, aren't you poetic," Geonhak murmurs.

  
  
  


"A man has to have a way of words to get what he wants."

  
  
  


Geonhak fiddles with one button of Ravn's white shirt and then tugs it loose. He can hear Ravn's breath slow in anticipation but Geonhak doesn't go any further than that. Instead, Geonhak keeps his forehead pressed against Ravn's neck, which has notably heated up since Geonhak had rested his head there.

  
  
  


"Am I just a thing you want? Is that all I am?" Geonhak asks with a tilt of his head.

  
  
  


He kind of means it though. Geonhak is undercover, an agent who basically works for the government.

He's Ravn's enemy.

But he's sincere in asking if he's just going to be Ravn's play-thing, even though it shouldn't matter as long as Geonhak accomplishes his mission.

It's all a game to Ravn, and it's all just business for Geonhak, but it feels like a personal blow anyway to just be another toy among hundreds of others.

Again, it isn't what Geonhak should be focusing on. It's nothing that should bother him.

Geonhak's now got his eye on the wallet carelessly shoved into Youngjo's chest pocket. It's bulky, probably packed with wads of cash, but that's not what Geonhak is after. He just needs Ravn's identification - just needs the man's full name and such - and then he's good to go.

  
  
  


"I'll admit that's how I've viewed the previous people I've been with," Ravn says, and Geonhak almost believes he's guilty with how shameful he sounds. "But it feels different with you. I can't describe it."

  
  
  


Geonhak scoffs lightly, briefly fluttering his eyes closed as he continues to lean into the man.

(He didn't really think he'd ever be the small spoon in his life, given his toned and tall stature, but here he was, cuddled up like he's a petite child in the arms of a mall Santa.

Though, really, it wasn't as bad as he had ever thought it'd be. Maybe even in the arms of the enemy, it's still nice to be held.

...If that wasn't such a concerning idea anyway, that's what Geonhak would think.)

  
  
  


"You still don't believe me, do you," Ravn laughs weakly, his words merging into each other as a result of intoxication.

  
  
  


"That depends. What can you do to convince me?"

  
  
  


Geonhak had been the one to invite, but he swallows when Ravn turns his head to look down at Geonhak, his hand having moved from Geonhak's collar to the side of his chest where the undercover agent finds his heart beating faster than it's ever beat in his entire life.

  
  
  


"Can I kiss you?" Ravn says quietly, so timid he sounds so _pure,_ pressing his forehead against Geonhak's.

  
  
  


"You didn't ask last time," Geonhak responds just as timidly.

  
  
  


Ravn grins fervently, eyes drilling into Geonhak's skull, but this time Geonhak can't tell if it's still objectifying him or if it's a genuine gaze of adoration.

But it doesn't matter, because the gambler is kissing Geonhak again, this time with more passion than before. Ravn's hands come to rest on the bare skin of Geonhak's chest, and while it makes Geonhak the most queasy he's been, flinching slightly at the touch, he ignores it. Instead he pretends to kiss back even with his lack of experience - maybe even kissing back genuinely, but he can't really tell anymore - and he even tries to take the lead this time but he doesn't quite get there when Ravn refuses to let him. He tries not to mind the way their teeth clash painfully, hard enough that Geonhak thinks it might've drawn blood, and he instead focuses on slipping his hand around Ravn's shoulder as naturally as he can.

While Ravn's too busy being touchy, Geonhak takes his chance and pulls the man closer that they already are so that Geonhak can get a better reach of the wallet, which has ever so slightly slipped out of the man's chest pocket. Ravn seems enamored by the move, thinking it's a request for more, and he makes some muffled hum against Geonhak's lips. His fingers start to get too adventurous, making Geonhak shudder as an invasive hand comes to brush over the outline of his abs, but Geonhak can't back out now, not when he's this close, his fingers grazing the cool leather of the bar owner's wallet.

He hopes that Ravn's drunk enough, considering all the bottles of various alcohol that Geonhak had seen on the low table before coming in. And under the guise of an intimate touch, Geonhak finally gets his fingers around the wallet.

The wallet easily slips from Ravn's shirt pocket, and it goes unnoticed as Geonhak moves it behind Ravn where he hides it. Distracted from finally acquiring one of the things he's come for, Ravn takes him by surprise when he dramatically dips Geonhak backwards until his head lightly hits the armrest of the couch, Ravn pressing his body too closely against him.

Geonhak feels somewhat violated but he can't say he loathes the touch. He also feels intoxicated himself, as if he's getting drunk off the alcohol straight from Ravn's lips. He feels himself slide halfway off of Ravn's lap and he takes the chance to carefully hide the wallet under his thigh for now.

By the time Ravn finally gets off of Geonhak, Geonhak, no doubt, knows he probably looks like a mess. Ravn has messed up his carefully gelled hair, his short bangs falling limply on his forehead and probably sticking up weirdly in the back of his head, and his shirt looks like it's been even further buttoned, just about fully exposing his entire torso.

Geonhak can barely catch his breath, his heartbeat ticking obnoxiously in his ears like a time bomb that'll go off any minute. He's not so sure he likes being manhandled like this, much more preferring the wholesome cuddles from his innocent friends, but he gets himself to give a final teasing kiss against the mole on Ravn's neck. Then he pulls away, only for Ravn to drag him back onto his lap, and Geonhak shifts in the man's lap just enough so that he's tilting his body to face the forgotten game of poker on the table alongside the empty bottles of beer, soju, and whiskey, angling his nametag - a hidden camera - at the pile of money Ravn had illegally won.

  
  
  


"You're a good kisser," Geonhak says when he's finally caught his breath properly, offering up a conversation to distract Ravn from his missing wallet and the hopefully not too obvious turn of his body.

  
  
  


"Am I?" Ravn says questioningly, but he's grinning just as provocatively as he was before he had kissed Geonhak a second time.

  
  
  


"You are," Geonhak says hoarsely, and he partially isn't lying, genuinely and subconsciously reaching up to touch his lips with the hand that isn't hiding the wallet behind his back.

  
  
  


It kind of hurts, his lips probably unhappy with being roughhoused like that without warning. But Geonhak bets that his ears are probably red; whether or not he's actually attracted to this to-be-criminal doesn't matter when he's just been kissed for the first and second ever times in his life, not to mention with how aggressively Ravn had done so.

Ravn giggles drunkenly, satisfied with his work with his own cheeks red either from blushing or from all the alcohol intake or _both,_ and Geonhak finds himself laughing softly, briefly enamored by the softness of Ravn's high-pitched giggle.

  
  
  


"I have to get to work. Don't want to get fired from working here, at this bar you own, do I?" Geonhak says with fake disappointment, though this time _he_ eyes Ravn like he's the one who's a piece of meat.

  
  
  


(Which Ravn _will_ be. A piece of _dead_ meat who shall be taken down for his crimes.)

  
  
  


"Ah," Ravn frowns, clearly upset. "Can't you stay just a little longer?"

  
  
  


"I'd love to, but duty calls. Not all of us can get money like you do."

  
  
  


Geonhak offers his nicest smile and, though with an internal hesitance, presses his lips gently on the crown of Ravn's forehead.

(Ravn's hair is, unexpectedly, very soft. Even more unexpectedly, it smells of lavender and cocoa butter, even with the hints of other scents clinging to the bar owner's locks.)

To Geonhak, the kiss is some sort of a final apology, because somehow he feels sorry that this man will be imprisoned real soon. But it's still a form of affection that leaves Ravn stunned, smiling dumbly like a puppy, as Geonhak subtly tucks the man's wallet into his front pants pocket before standing from Ravn's lap. The men around the room don't seem to notice, too conditioned to looking away when Ravn gets frisky, and Geonhak is grateful for it as he walks proudly towards the door.

Without so much as a glance back, he shuts the door behind him, and Geonhak immediately peels the wallet from his pocket and flips through the contents.

There are some discarded, crumpled receipts shoved inside, numerous bills worth 112 million won altogether - _damn,_ Geonhak thinks enviously - and several credit cards that only define Ravn's wealth all the more. And then the ID card he was looking for comes into view and he slips it out, holding it up so that the camera in his fake nametag can get a good view of it in case he loses the ID itself.

  
  
  


_Name: Kim Youngjo_

_Sex: Male_

_Height: 178 cm_

_Date of Birth: 09/02/1995_

  
  
  


That information, alongside the image of a somewhat younger Ravn - of a younger _Youngjo_ \- is all Geonhak needs. He hums in contentment, putting the ID back and pocketing the entire wallet when he hears a loud slam of some furniture being thrown and the shattering of glass come from the VIP room.

  
  
  


"Looks like I need to go," he says under his breath, though he smiles, bouncing on his heels in anticipation.

  
  
  


_"KIM LEEDO!"_

  
  
  


A wide grin breaks out on Geonhak's face and he breaks into a sprint right as the door slams open, scanning his surroundings until his eyes land on the exit leading to the East wing staircase that Seoho had told him about.

He dodges when one of Youngjo's men manages to get ahead of him, an entire table being thrown into his pathway. He's been trained for this, easily gliding over it like it's nothing, and easily sidesteps when another henchman throws his entire _body_ at Geonhak.

Geonhak ignores the stream of curses combined with his alias that spill out behind him, and if anything, he finds he's amused by it. But they're all from Ravn, from Youngjo, who he somehow feels attached to even while only knowing the man for less than an hour, and while knowing he was just another one of Youngjo's toys for the time being. One particularly loud scream does make the hair on the back of his neck stand though, feeling uncharacteristic from the sweet-talking flirt with an alluring, gentle voice, but he only keeps running, running and running until he skids to a halt in front of the East wing door.

He whips around and kicks as hard as he can almost blindly, the heel of his dress shoe digging into the lower stomach of a henchman that had been right on his tail. The man staggers back, colliding with another bodyguard, and both of them tumble to the ground. He snickers at the sight but notes the way several more men charge in his direction. Geonhak's fingers slip a few times before he finally gets a proper grasp on the handle.

Before he slams the door shut, he dares to make one final glance at Youngjo. The man looks less pissed than Geonhak is expecting, and though he _is_ clearly fuming with rage, Youngjo's expression is surprisingly more heartbroken that it should be for someone who kisses and touches people and throws them away like they're nothing.

The pitiful look kind of pulls at something in Geonhak's chest but he slams the door closed with all the strength he can muster, the loud _bang_ reverberating throughout the staircases that reach both upwards and downwards.

There's aggressively banging on the door but Geonhak holds it shut with his entire body weight, fumbling, uncoordinated, with the lock.

  
  
  


"I made it out," Geonhak says breathlessly when he calls Seoho after getting his earpiece back on.

  
  
  


"I can tell. It sounds like you just ran a whole marathon," Seoho comments cheekily.

  
  
  


"Shut up. Just send a car over before I actually _have_ to run a marathon," Geonhak hisses, leaving the door to scurry down the stairs.

  
  
  


There are more men rushing at him from below but they're no problem for Geonhak, an easy flip and jump here and there as well as a few punches and kicks and Geonhak's in the clear again.

  
  
  


"Okay, okay. Harin- _ah_ parked close by, he'll be there in a jiffy. Literally."

  
  
  


Seoho cuts off and Geonhak rolls his eyes, sliding down the rest of the way on the railings carefully until he reaches the ground level. He can hear shouting from above - the henchmen must've gotten the door open, now combining with the men he had kicked down, and he hears a parade of hurried steps attempting to catch up with Geonhak - but it's too late for them anyway.

The air of late autumn leaking into the beginning of winter greets Geonhak with an icy gust to the face, drawing out some tears from his eyes. He blinks them away, wiping them sloppily like they're actual sad tears.

Just as Seoho had said, Harin is already waiting for him at the back of Twilight Bar, lights dimmed so as to not draw any attention. Geonhak slides into the passenger door and then Harin is jarringly slamming his foot into the gas before the men at Geonhak's tail can so much as even get near him again.

  
  
  


"Thanks, Harin," Geonhak manages to say through his breaths, leaning his head back against the headrest.

  
  
  


"Of course, _hyung_ , this _is_ my job," Harin laughs wholeheartedly, his eyes creasing as he smiles. "You got the stuff?"

  
  
  


"You make it sound like it's a drug deal," Geonhak snorts. He shovels around his pocket and waves the wallet carelessly in the air. "But yes. Got evidence with Myeong- _ah'_ s hidden camera as well."

  
  
  


"Hell yeah, too easy. That's the end for Twilight Bar."

  
  
  


The car gradually decreases in speed when the bar comes out of sight. Geonhak supposes they're not even going to send a car after them, not when it's already a lost cause when they don't know Geonhak's real name nor when the plate on Harin's car is fake.

Geonhak slips out Youngjo's ID again and probably stares longer than he should at the picture displaying the man in what is probably his early college days. He feels conflicted for a short moment, somehow kind of missing the other man’s touch even as he self-consciously buttons his shirt back all the way up to his throat.

This young Youngjo looks innocent. Vibrant, eyes sparkling, with a bright future ahead of him. While Geonhak knows he’s only making assumptions based on an ID picture of a man he’s barely known, it makes him wonder what Youngjo had gone through in his life to become what he was now.

But there isn’t much he can do anyway. His mission is accomplished, he’s succeeded in what he was to do, and he knows that this culprit will never cross his mind again when the whole case is closed.

  
  
  


"Oh, by the way, _hyung_ , can I have my belt back?"

  
  
  


"Oh. Oh, y-yeah, sorry, here."

  
  
  


—

  
  
  


Seoho passes the sloppily written check across the desk in exchange for Geonhak’s hidden camera and Youngjo’s wallet. Geonhak barely gives the check a glance - he knows it'll do him good for the next month - before he’s casually tucking it into his shirt, which makes Seoho give him a judgmental look, although the older man doesn’t comment on it.

  
  
  


“I’m not so sure I want to see the lovey dovey stuff so I’m counting on you to just crop the clips with the illegal gambling on it,” Seoho says, though he sounds pleased as he himself digs through Youngjo’s wallet. "Just give the files to me tomorrow."

  
  
  


“Whatever,” Geonhak grunts, but he takes the hidden camera back anyway.

  
  
  


“Geez, this guy’s good looking,” Seoho mutters, mostly to himself as he holds Youngjo's ID up. “Shame. He’ll be in prison in the next week or two anyway.”

  
  
  


Geonhak just shrugs, juggling the fake nametag in his hands.

  
  
  


“Now shoo, I have to assign a mission for the twins,” Seoho huffs, waving a nonchalant hand at Geonhak.

  
  
  


With an annoyed nose scrunch, Geonhak just grunts and turns on his heel. As he exits Seoho’s office, he claws at one corner of the nametag until the entire front comes off. He picks at the tiny camera that sits within and puffs his cheeks out, holding it up to the light as if it’s some expensive diamond.

The 'lovey dovey stuff' can't be that bad, he thinks. It's probably just a series of weird noises and obscure close ups.

  
  
  


—

  
  
  


Unfortunately, Geonhak is wrong and Seoho is right.

The 'lovey dovey stuff' _is_ pretty bad.

As Geonhak sits back in the bedroom of his own apartment, clad in comfortable oversized pajamas that contrast heavily with his get-up at the bar and with one leg weirdly tucked under his chin as he squints like a fool in his dark room at the bright laptop shining into his eyes, Geonhak tries to skip to the part where he had turned to face Youngjo’s illegal winnings in his game of poker. But he feels his entire face redden all the way to his ears and down his neck as he, instead, manages to skip to every scandalous moment with Youngjo's chest pressed against his (and ultimately against the camera itself).

There are glimpses of Youngjo’s face as well - clips that Geonhak will have to add into the clips of evidence to prove that it was Youngjo who was illegally gambling - and Geonhak finds himself glued on every little time Youngjo had smiled.

It somehow sends sparks in Geonhak's chest. The smiles feel warm and domestic, even despite the fact they come from a man with no remorse nor care for others.

The sounds are not very pleasant, really, rustling fabric and aggressive breathing that almost reminds him of an enraged bull. Geonhak dismisses it as the prude he is, though his entire face flushes as red as a firetruck, and he rushes to get his work done and crops the essential evidence before he can get any more flustered.

  
  
  


“What a day,” he grumbles and drums his fingers against the table impatiently, waiting for the cropped video of evidence to upload onto a flashdrive that he’ll toss at Seoho tomorrow.

  
  
  


—

  
  
  


It takes only about a week - six days, to be precise, so actually just a day short of a week - and the quickest trial Geonhak's ever heard of (that he hadn't attended out of both business and personal matters), and Ravn, real name Kim Youngjo, is deemed guilty and thrown into prison just like that.

With the sort of evidence provided, it should be a given. Ravn's identity is revealed, the illegal gambling was caught on tape, and there were so many people whom he had used as his play-things that came and testified against him, so what more was there to say? Of course Youngjo loses his everything right then and there, and Twilight Bar is closed for good.

(Apparently even Youngjo himself had silently allowed himself to be taken away, pleading guilty, fully aware of the things he had done.)

But…

Somehow, again, Geonhak feels some sort of remorse for a man who deserves to pay for his crimes. He barely knows Youngjo, doesn't know Youngjo at all, doesn't know the life Youngjo led nor the things that had happened to him. He only knows that short moment that barely lasted over half an hour of just making out and being manhandled, and he shudders a little, pulling his oversized hoodie closer to his body as if he isn't covered enough.

But also, who cares? Geonhak shouldn't care. He has a whole month's worth of pay - maybe even two months if Geonhak rations his necessities and his wants properly - and that's all that should really matter to him.

He's accomplished yet another mission, got his pay, and now he's back into the comfort of his comfortable apartment.

However, that night, Geonhak finds sleep doesn't come very easy. Sometimes it's like this after a mission, sleepless, horribly wide awake, but it feels different tonight. He thinks maybe it's because this was the first time he had handled a relatively dangerous mission alone. And, admittedly with a sensual and personal encounter like that, Geonhak finds himself blinking groggily at his ceiling as if it'll put him to sleep.

At some point, maybe he does pass out. But it's only for a brief moment, maybe for only an hour or two. It's still enough for a man with round, cat-like eyes and heart-shaped lips to visit his dreams, the man staring him down so silently but menacingly. But it's the pain and betrayal on Ravn's face that makes Geonhak feel suffocated, like he's the one who had committed a wrongdoing.

Ravn looks heartbroken even with their short encounter.

He's unblinking, unmoving, and Geonhak wakes up with a jolt so harsh he hits his head on the headboard of his bed.

The man plagues his dreams a few more times after that.

Then they slowly dwindle in frequency until they just stop altogether.

But while Geonhak moves on with his life, going on leave as an agent so he can focus on his studies in college, making new friends, moving in with his new roommate, and all the sorts, the gaze of those alluring, heartbroken feline eyes forever stay imprinted in the back of his head whether he thinks of them or not.

━━━━━»•» ◐ «•«━━━━━

It's been just a little over two years and Youngjo hates how everything has already changed rapidly. Things feel foreign, his body so accustomed to the musty air of prison, and while he's grateful he had gotten released on parole for 'being a good boy', he's not so sure how to function in the real world anymore.

There's only himself to blame for that, however, and Youngjo acknowledges it fully.

He wonders how things had changed for him, bitterly mulling over his entire life as if it'll change where he stands today.

At age 11, he wanted to be an artist, someone who inspired people, someone who made a difference.

At age 15, he was drawing like crazy, probably even doodling in class when he should've been paying attention. But it was all innocent and happy, a time he can still look back on and miss.

At age 18, he was graduating high school; he still has the picture of himself smiling for the camera, holding his high school diploma up proudly with his mother's arm around his shoulder.

At age 20, after two years of majoring in art, he realized it wasn't exactly that he wanted to make art for the world but that his goal in life was that he wanted to make people happy. And so he devised a plan to open a bar. He'll make it open for everyone (who are of age), for all sorts of people of different backgrounds. And he'll still cater to his interest in making art by decorating the walls with his paintings, in hopes people will enjoy them as well. He wanted to be the kind of bar owner that greeted every patron when they walked in. He wanted to make his customers want to come back again with their friends and loved ones.

Then something happens that even Youngjo can't recall anymore, memories blurred by an array of alcohol and more alcohol. He had gotten tangled with the wrong kind of peers, the kind that negatively influenced him heavily. They corrupted him but it's partially his fault for letting them in, for not standing his ground with the morals he initially had.

At age 22, he's suddenly the renowned owner of Twilight Bar, nameless other than for his short alias, famous but more _infamous_ among his patrons. Hot, dashing, deathly attractive, but he was hot _trash_ in that he tossed away his 'toys' when he was done.

Age 23, he gets led on by the most gorgeous man he's ever encountered in his life. He even considers the idea of love at first sight, a completely raw thought even with the nuances of lust that had driven his brain.

Then suddenly it's all over. He lets his guard down to this beautiful man and it's ultimately his downfall, his identity revealed, his crimes recorded for evidence, and then he finds himself sitting in court, condemned to prison in front of a large group of the people he had ruined.

He had it coming. And he deserved it. It was all going to happen eventually with how rotten he had become, contaminated and overtaken by greed that never used to be characteristic of him.

Prison treated him nicely but he didn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve any sort of kindness when he can't even remember the majority of the faces he made out with, only remembers the way he touched them greedily, and he feels more and more like a sinner when he realizes that he will never be able to ask proper forgiveness from every single person he's ever harmed.

Now real life, the outside world, the free life that doesn't feel right nor deserved anymore, makes Youngjo feel like he's standing outside without any clothes. He's a fraud, an _impostor,_ a beaten wolf without its teeth standing among a herd of sheep. He feels like every person who glances at him knows what he's done, that even the short second they look at him is a look that swears at him for all of the things that he cannot take back.

It doesn't help that it's a cool autumn day, cozy but also chilly enough with fierce gusts of wind that has him taking shelter in a random coffee shop. It's an icy autumn day that's exactly like that day he had been tricked. It reminds him of everything, of the alcohol and the game of poker, and especially of the sole man who had torn him down. Leedo's face is so vivid in his brain, the captivating gaze and angled features, and the weather only makes it worse.

The reason Youngjo remembers Leedo so well isn't just because Leedo was the cause of his downfall. While he does still feel some spite over being betrayed, that isn't the main reason he remembers Leedo.

It was because Leedo _w_ _as,_ in all forms and ways, _breathtaking_. Every person he made contact with was breathtaking but Leedo was just something else, the next level, handcrafted very carefully by the God Youngjo doesn't feel worthy of facing anymore.

Leedo was nothing more than a trap. But he was literally so perfect to Youngjo, someone that Youngjo, the fuckboy, was willing to get to know.

He, the seducer, was seduced by a man who only wanted him taken down.

And he had fallen hard for him.

Though the man had a great body, a sexy and sharp gaze that Youngjo guiltily kind of wants to look at again, all dressed in black just as he was those few years ago, Leedo had this innocence that Youngjo admired.

He imagines how much nicer it would've been to meet Leedo in a different setting. Or if they had met in a different life. Youngjo could've gotten to learn Leedo's personality and habits, and maybe he could've even befriended the man. Or a step further than that.

But there's nothing Youngjo can do about that. He acted like shit so he got shit.

Youngjo gnaws at his lower lip and fiddles with his fingers, head ducked as he mumbles out a randomly picked order from the menu - notably the _cheapest_ on the menu - and he shovels through his pockets to pick out some sad, crumpled up bill as payment before he then shuffles over to the unoccupied table in the corner. He's developed an unhealthy habit of picking at the skin around his fingernails, and while it makes him cringe, he keeps doing it anyway as he plops down onto the chair.

  
  
  


"Kim Youngjo, you fool," he mutters under his breath.

  
  
  


It's been two weeks since his release and he still goes throughout each day as a free man like a man foreign to his own body.

He sighs, leaning back on his chair until his head lightly hits the wall, and then he just opts to people watching.

A mother and her son who could only be in elementary are sitting near him, laughing as the kid tells his mother about his day at school. They've got a half-eaten cheesecake that they're sharing, strawberry syrup drizzled over it, and it makes Youngjo extremely aware of how hungry he is.

There's a middle-aged man sitting alone, distracted by his phone, picking at a barely touched croissant on his plate. He looks like he's probably going through something - Youngjo's seen the tired, despairing look before, a common look on some of his patrons back at Twilight Bar, and also especially on his own face these days - but Youngjo decides not to delve too much into what could be happening.

He moves on to the next person sullenly and eyes this bright-eyed man who also happens to sit alone. This time, he's young, probably only a bit younger than Youngjo, eyes still holding the innocence of someone who somehow hasn't been exposed to the evil of life. It feels refreshing as the man, hair dyed bright blue, taps away at his cell phone, bouncing his knee as if incapable of keeping still.

A woman, the same one who had served the simple coffee that Youngjo hadn't touched since he got it, serves the blue-haired boy two drinks and a cake and Youngjo gets caught up in how cutely the boy sounds as he thanks her. The boy then makes a move for one of the drinks, some sort of drink (that shouldn't even be described as coffee anymore with how much whipped cream, chocolate, and caramel was drizzled over it) and takes a sip of it. The other drink is placed aside, its contents looking something like simple iced tea, and Youngjo hypothesizes that the blue-haired boy is waiting for someone.

Youngjo wishes _he_ was waiting for someone. Even before he had gone to prison, Youngjo's had no one truly there for him, back then until now.

The men who worked for him? Just doing their job, they didn't care for him personally.

Friends? He didn't have any real ones. Any sort of acquaintances he made along the way were all business-driven.

His mother? Youngjo glances at the mother-son duo again and fights the aching in his chest. Ever since he had been exposed for illegal gambling, as well as a fuckboy as it was put by the public, his mother visited him only a total of one time, and it was to give him the classic "I'm disappointed in you" talk with tears in her eyes.

Even after his release, she didn't contact him, and he didn't dare contact her when he was the one who betrayed her and broke her heart. He didn't deserve to reach out to his mother who had sacrificed her everything for him while he had thrown it all away.

Youngjo silently watches as the mother and her son finally leave, and then he looks down at his coffee before he finally takes a sip.

It's black, too rich and bitter, and Youngjo only relates his stupid self to the black coffee. His life feels so dark, he had been so rich and bitter and stupid, and now he's bitter over how he had fucked his own life up. He groans under his breath and just dumps in too many little containers of creamer and too many little packets of artificial sugar until the color of his drink more resembles milk than coffee.

  
  
  


"Ah _hyung_ , you're here!"

  
  
  


The cheerful voice of the blue-haired boy rings in Youngjo's ears and he not-so-subtly looks up from his disaster of a coffee-creamer concoction. A man comes in with hair bleached to resemble a dirty blonde, and his black mask clings closely to his face. His bangs are so long that they hang over his eyes, kind of ominously, and Youngjo kind of wonders if maybe he's accidentally stumbled upon a couple of K-pop idols with the bold choices in hair color. But he ultimately decides he's just stretching it, even laughing emptily at himself, and takes another sullen sip of his coffee that's now too sweet for his liking.

He looks back at the blonde man again out of the corner of his eye, following how he takes off his long brown coat to reveal a black turtleneck sweater that probably fits his body too well. Youngjo swallows, reminded of the sort of men that caught his attention when he was a flirt, and he squirms in his seat like a misbehaved child.

  
  
  


"Yeah, sorry Keonhee, my professor wouldn't stop talking so class ran really late."

  
  
  


_Oh._

  
  
  


_...Oh._

  
  
  


Youngjo knows that voice. He feels his blood run cold and he digs his fingernails into his palms. He wishes he could just shrink, huddling himself more into the corner as if he'll become a chameleon and merge into the cream wallpaper.

  
  
  


"I got you your tea," the blue-haired boy - Youngjo's already forgotten his name, too horrified by Leedo's appearance - says, swinging one lanky leg over the other as he pushes the tea across the table.

  
  
  


"Ah, thanks."

  
  
  


Youngjo feels like he needs to get out of the coffee shop the more Leedo speaks, reminded more and more of Youngjo's mistake.

Leedo slips his mask off and it's undeniable, if the voice wasn't already enough, the same sharp nose and small cute lips that makes Youngjo's breath die in his throat.

  
  
  


"I don't know how you drink that stuff unsweetened, _hyung_."

  
  
  


Leedo gently mixes his drink with his straw, and Youngjo stares rudely, unintentionally gets enamored by the man all over again.

  
  
  


"I don't know how _you_ drink that stuff," Leedo huffs, motioning his tea accusingly at the blue-haired boy's drink. "I got a cavity just looking at that thing."

  
  
  


Blue boy gives an offended pout and shields his sugar-plagued drink from Leedo as if the drink is capable of getting offended. Youngjo thinks it's endearing, both blue boy's naivety as well as Leedo's, and he weakly chuckles before looking pitifully at his own drink that he's ruined.

He glances back at Leedo, and it's probably a bad idea because it does something to his heart. While two years treated Youngjo poorly - though he knows he deserves it - two years have apparently treated Leedo very nicely. If he was already so beautiful back at Twilight Bar, black hair and black clothes with the gold accents on his belt, a detail Youngjo still remembers, Leedo somehow looks even better, brighter, and maybe it's because he's more relaxed and comfortable. Youngjo realizes even more how shitty and inconsiderate he had been, not just to every single one of his victims but to Leedo as well. He can see it now, how uncomfortable Leedo was even while trying to mask it, subtle attempts at trying to squirm out of Youngjo's filthy arms.

Life shouldn't have gone this way, he thinks. Made too many mistakes, which everyone does, but he's made too many _consequential_ ones that probably had - and may still have - him on the highway to Hell. And now Youngjo is being mocked for it, the very man who took him down and also actually attracted him sitting in front of him again purely by chance. It makes him feel like any hopes of redeeming himself are being thrown out the window.

It doesn't help when after a while of Youngjo's internal torment, blue boy excuses himself to go to the bathroom, leaving a now-alone Leedo too close to where Youngjo's trying to shrink.

While Leedo is distracted on his phone, Youngjo thinks maybe he can snatch the perfect opportunity to just get up and sneakily leave. He'll just abandon his sad coffee and shuffle out as fast as he can. It'll be easy, he thinks. If he times it right, if he acts natural enough, he can make his escape and he'll hopefully never have to see Leedo again.

But he hesitates too long, too scared to commit to any of the plans running through his head.

Too afraid to be caught by the man who's got him feeling too many things all over again.

  
  
  


"Oh my God," the blue-haired boy is wailing dramatically when he returns, bouncing excessively in his spot like he's panicking. " _Hyung_ , I'm sorry, I need to go pick my sister up."

  
  
  


"It's fine, don't apologize," Leedo says with too much genuine sincerity for Youngjo's poor heart. "Just go ahead, we're literally roommates anyway, I'll just see you back at the apartment."

  
  
  


"Yeah, but I still feel bad!" Blue boy fake-cries, jumping like a little kid even when Youngjo can tell he's even taller than he is. "I'm ditching you like, after only twenty minutes of hanging out."

  
  
  


"Keonhee, _I_ was the one who was late. Just go before your sister gets mad at you or something," Leedo snorts, shaking his head.

  
  
  


"Okay fine," Blue boy - Keonhee - sighs, finally giving in. "But I'm paying for dinner tonight, okay?"

  
  
  


Leedo just smiles and Youngjo feels his entire soul do a 360° out of his body. Keonhee says another quick goodbye then leaves in a rush, and Youngjo thinks it's his cue to leave as well.

Until Leedo turns around before Youngjo can even move a muscle.

Their eyes meet and Youngjo swears his heart stops beating as he averts his eyes futilely, breath hitching painfully in his throat. He pretends to focus on his drink, swirling its sad contents and even taking a drink, only to grimace at how sweet it is.

Unfortunately, he's not very good at playing natural. At all. And undeniably, Leedo's already seen him anyway. Because the next thing Youngjo knows, Leedo is suddenly hovering over his table, effectively scaring the shit out of him.

Leedo doesn't say anything as Youngjo silently screams and backs further into the corner, the sound of his chair unpleasantly shrieking as he scoots backwards.

The way Leedo is towering over his table reminds him of the moment before Youngjo had invited him on his lap and he feels his cheeks flush out of both shame and also selfish attraction that had apparently never left in the past two years.

(Or it had simply been revived at the sight of Leedo before him again.)

  
  
  


"Uh," Youngjo sputters, avoiding eye contact. "Hi...?"

  
  
  


Leedo stares him down a little longer than makes a sound that could only either be a content grunt or a snort. Then the blonde man pulls the chair across from Youngjo and takes a seat, setting his tea down onto the table.

Perplexed, Youngjo just stares at him. Youngjo is increasingly self-aware of his own appearance, Leedo looking even more blindingly beautiful and Youngjo an absolute wreck, nervously touching his overgrown black hair, shaggy and wavy and tangled in just the way he's most self-conscious of.

  
  


"It's been awhile, huh," Leedo finally says.

  
  
  


Youngjo stares dumbly at him, too flustered to speak a word.

A short throb of pain flashes through his chest.

  
  
  


"Your natural hair suits you better," Leedo continues even despite the lack of response.

  
  
  


_Heartache._

Youngjo's chest hurts more.

It hurts really bad. Really, _really_ bad.

  
  
  


"What are you trying to do?" Youngjo finally chokes out, his voice crackling.

  
  
  


"Nothing, just..." Leedo trails off and scrunches up his nose briefly, looking away as he drinks more of his tea. "It's just been awhile. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

  
  
  


"I wasn't expecting to see you either…" Youngjo mumbles.

  
  
  


"I guess the past two years really changed you," Leedo says in a way that Youngjo thinks sounds solemn. "I feel like I'm not even talking to the same person. I'd say I'm sorry for what I did to you but I think you can understand why I won't."

  
  
  


"Sorry," Youngjo has the nerve to apologize instead, dipping his head in shame.

  
  
  


Leedo gazes at him with such sincere concern that it makes Youngjo's stomach twist. He hates it, that he had manhandled the other man, that he was probably just going to toy around with him as well, and yet Leedo still looked at him like he was still worth being called a human being.

  
  
  


"I _will_ apologize for hurting you though. I still remember how you last looked at me. I'm really sorry about that."

  
  
  


Youngjo's chest hurts so much that it feels hard to _breathe._ It doesn't help that Leedo looks so angelic, eyebrows furrowed in under his bangs in a way that can only be defined as a look of worry. Like he's worried for Youngjo, even after Leedo had tricked him and gotten him imprisoned.

While Youngjo kind of misses the short black hair that had enticed him back then, Leedo's longer blonde hair frames his face in a way that makes Leedo look unreal.

Literally like an angel that Youngjo doesn't deserve to know.

Leedo bites his lower lip, hesitating for a moment, and then he straightens his posture and extends a hand out. Youngjo looks at it like he's never seen a hand before in his entire life, but then he's only reminded of his flirtatious, inviting hand to Leedo two years ago.

  
  
  


"Kim Geonhak," Leedo finally says and Youngjo head snaps up, confused.

  
  
  


"W-what?"

  
  
  


"That's my real name. Kim Geonhak," Leedo - Geonhak - says, outstretched hand waiting. "Let's just start over, okay?"

  
  
  


Youngjo hesitates before he finally accepts the handshake. He still feels like he doesn't deserve it but Geonhak just does _something_ to him, the same fluttering feeling he had felt during their first meeting.

  
  
  


"Kim Youngjo," he sputters awkwardly.

  
  
  


Geonhak smiles at him, coyly but so warmly that Youngjo almost melts on the spot.

  
  
  


"Yes, I remember. How could I forget?" Geonhak laughs, and it sounds like music to Youngjo's ears. "I don't know about you, but I personally like it _a lot_ more than Ravn. Youngjo, like the king."

  
  
  


Youngjo takes a shaky breath - he feels absolutely nothing like a king - but then decides right then that he's absolutely screwed. This time it's not because of his crimes forever dragging his mind and body down, but because of this man who forgives him for his crimes anyway.

Though he knows he isn’t in the clear of all his wrongdoings, not even _close_ when he’s hurt so many people by playing around as a fuckboy and may most likely never be clear, Geonhak still sits here offers him some aid when he doesn’t have to.

  
  
  


( _An angel_ , Youngjo repeats in his head. _An angel without wings, but an angel nonetheless_.)

  
  
  


And so Youngjo finds it extremely difficult to hold himself back from smiling even if only by the slightest bit, so hard not to smile when Geonhak literally beams at him, a smile he had not seen before, and the kind of smile that's just so sincere and authentic that it makes him feel like he’s capable of becoming a worthy human again.

(Maybe, just maybe, with the help of Geonhak, Youngjo can learn to be good again.)

━━»•» ◐ «•«━━━━━━━━

**Author's Note:**

> tag yourself i'm the guy geonhak kicked lol
> 
> i am so embarrassed over writing this it's just not something i would write i'm sorry
> 
> also the uhh... last part probably isn't so fitting, but i am physically incapable of leaving this fic untouched with something relatively wholesome lol, so i consider it a treat to myself 👉👈
> 
> couldn't think of a title and kept thinking of viva la vida for some reason - it's not really fitting though - but now the title is long live life, which i would actually rather credit frida kahlo for coming up with phrase (viva la vida roughly means long live life so-)
> 
> anyway, thank you for reading this trash fire i hope yall have a nice day ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡
> 
> [my art instagram](https://www.instagram.com/akihisae/)  
> [my kpop twitter](https://www.twitter.com/ujihun_/)


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